


Impertinent Inventor

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: Squishy MegOp [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Fat Robots, Fluff, Food/Feeding Kink, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post War, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: "I'm almost impressed," Wheeljack commented, reaching out a servo to grope at a roll of the bulging protoform around the Prime's thick chassis.---In which a jetpack is useless, and Wheeljack is amused.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving weight gain, unhealthy eating, and implied belly stuffing.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

"Oh, Primus damn it all." 

Those were not the first words that Optimus Prime had expected to hear from Wheeljack's vocalizer as he entered the inventor's laboratory. 

"Is there something wrong?" Optimus inquired, uncomfortably aware of the inventor's optics roaming over every curve of his large frame. 

Despite all of Megatron's amused reassurances, he was still incredibly self-conscious about his size. It was impossible to deny that he had gotten fat from his overindulgence on human fuels, and that he was gaining more weight at an alarming rate.

"I forgot to compensate for increase over time," Wheeljack clarified, which in fact clarified nothing at all.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Optimus admitted hesitantly. Sometimes the inventor seemed to forget that other mechs couldn't read his processor. 

"Your jetpack." The inventor explained. "I finally had the time to upgrade the slagging thing, but I forgot to compensate for Megatron's meddling. You've gotten huge - I doubt the thrusters on that thing can even lift you anymore."

A flush of energon rose to the Prime's cheekplates, and he resolved to kick the warlord's aft at the earliest possible opportunity (or at very least give him a stern talking to).

He'd asked Wheeljack to upgrade his jetpack a short while ago, when it had begun to exhibit signs of stress - stress caused by the steady increase in his mass. He'd only asked about the upgrade seven decaorns ago, and it was already finished today, six orns earlier than he'd expected. 

How had his gain already outpaced the upgraded limitations of the device? Had Megatron really been feeding him that much?

He was definitely going to kick the warlord's aft.

Wheeljack may have been smirking behind his facemask as he slowly circled Optimus, examining his leader's massive frame from every possible angle. 

"I'm almost impressed," Wheeljack commented, reaching out a servo to grope at a roll of the bulging protoform around the Prime's thick chassis. 

Optimus barely stifled an undignified squeak at being so casually mechhandled. Yes, Megatron always groped his frame, but Megatron was his conjunx eterna. The warlord appreciated every inch of his increasing girth. When Megatron groped him, it was affectionate and playful, with no intention of being mocking or cruel.

"Impressed?" Optimus echoed disapprovingly, trying to keep a shudder of embarrassment from his voice.

"Yeah. You've gotten almost as big as he is." Wheeljack wasn't joking. After these last several decaorns of indulgence, Optimus now quite nearly equalled the warlord in girth. That was no mean feat, either - Megatron was frelling enormous, and frelling proud of it. 

Another servo groped at the distended plating of his stomach, sinking comfortably into the malleable metal. The Prime's blush intensified. 

Megatron had been feeding him far, far too much. Yesterday's dinner came immediately to mind - dinner itself had been merely an energon cube, but dessert had been incredible. 

A rich, creamy chocolate cheesecake, and Optimus had eaten nearly the entire thing, urged on by his amused conjunx. Megatron had finished off the last of it, apparently not completely satisfied by the entire strawberry cheesecake that he'd already devoured. They'd then proceeded to spend half the evening lazing on the sofa, watching the newsfeeds and snacking on dozens upon dozens of energon-chip peanut-butter cookies.

The Prime's tanks growled hungrily at the memory. Wheeljack's bark of surprised laughter promptly brought him back to the present, and he realized to his great embarrassment that he'd been fantasizing. Fantasizing about fuel, and over-fuelling, and his conjunx’s servos on his overstuffed chassis -

"Let's get you on the scale," the inventor was almost certainly smirking behind his facemask, one hand still resting on his leader's plump aft. "I need to extrapolate a growth rate."

Optimus sighed with trepidation as he complied, his optics widening as the scale calculated his mass. Surely he hadn't gotten that fat!

Unfortunately, the numbers didn’t lie.

Wheeljack whistled, clearly impressed. "Give me two decaorns," the inventor patted the Prime's chassis, "and try to stay within an upward trend of three to five percent per decaorn. Otherwise I'm going to need you back here to recalculate."

Optimus groaned with embarrassment. His underfed tanks growled again, loud and insistent. 

Yes, he was definitely going to kick Megatron's aft.

After lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah. I wrote another one. Squishy robots are my jam. XD
> 
> I don't know why I headcanon Optimus as insecure. I just can't see him being completely confident about his squishy frame. Megatron, on the other hand, may like his new size a bit too much.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
